


The Convert

by bananaandhaircasserole



Category: Doug (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27810415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananaandhaircasserole/pseuds/bananaandhaircasserole
Summary: Roger Klotz is all grown-up and not doing so well.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	The Convert

He had done it again. Another week wasted getting wasted. Various bottles and cans littered the trailer; their hegemony interrupted by the occasional bit of drug paraphernalia. Someone was using a bandsaw somewhere in the trailer park, the sound of which jolted his senses back into an incredibly painful reality. He was stretched out on the sofa. His boots and jacket had been removed. Who had done it for him, he hadn’t the slightest clue. But he was thankful for it. Passing out in leather was never a good idea. He learned a hard lesson a year before after overdosing in a BDSM club during a session with “The Countess.” He was already flying high when he wandered in, ready to try something new. Places like these are not supposed to exist in Bluffington. Within a few minutes, he was very nearly beaten and thrown out of the building after reaching for one of the girls mumbling, “Titty, titty, titty.” The Countess saved him. She stopped the bouncers, grabbed him by his hand and led him to a back room. At this point, Roger’s memory gets a little hazy. He could remember wearing leather, a whip being slapped across his back and a glimpse of The Countess’s red bush. It went black after that. When he came to, he was in the hospital hooked up to machines conducting a symphony of beeps, their wires crisscrossing his body. He spent a week there recovering. Most of that time was spent detoxing from the cocktail of substances Roger had offered permanent residence in his body. The rest of his time lying in bed was spent hydrating. He had always known what water was conceptually, but never knew just how amazing it was until he started drinking it in the hospital. Afterwards, Roger had vowed to do two things. One was to cool it on the alcohol and hard drugs. The other was to find The Countess. The vision of her fleecy muff drove him crazy. He had never had luck with the ladies. Usually, he had to pay for it. On the rare occasion he was lucky, some old, shriveled barfly would take a liking to him and drag him back to whatever cave she was living in. And the last time he had gotten lucky, he was not even able to enjoy it for himself. That fat-fuck Doug Funnie was there. Yeah, sure, a spit-roast sounded great and would certainly add to his repertoire of disgusting stories, but Doug Funnie? Whatever strangeness had gotten ahold of his family affected Doug profoundly. Roger could not remember the last time Doug WASN’T high or drunk. Roger’s habits were bad, but at least he wasn’t Doug “fat-fuck” Funnie.

Roger’s promises to himself were as good as New Year’s resolutions. No one REALLY intends to follow through. Roger was clean for six days. And those six days were the most boring of his life. He sat around at home watching TV, drinking seltzer, pining for the days he was wealthy. Though he was not a praying man by any means, the tail end of Genesis 3:19 popped into his head, “For you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” That was the only seemingly logical reasoning he had to explain how he had ended up back in the same trailer he had started life off in. Everything disappeared, including his own mother. The last he heard from her was a sudden post card from Thailand with the words “GOOD TIMES” scrawled on the back. He wasn’t even sure how much time had passed since receiving that post card. SOME of the money was still there, but what was left was pathetic compared to what he had grown accustomed to. He sold his home at a loss and moved into the trailer just to keep the party going. Of course, nostalgia would not keep the lights on or his buzz going. Not wanting to be alone with his thoughts, he wandered out into the streets of Bluffington looking for a party.

Roger rolled onto his side. He didn’t know how he knew, nor did he care; but on the coffee table, amidst the crushed cans and empty baggies of drugs consumed long ago, was an unopened beer and a gram of coke. The beer was most certainly warm by now, but Roger didn’t care. He would have to nurse it for a little before downing it. Drinking it too quickly would only make him vomit. And it was a sin to waste beer like that in his house. Turning on the TV distracted him from the protests of his stomach and head as he sat up. He wanted a little bump as well, but decided against it, as the rush would only get absorbed by his headache. “Wait until you’re feeling a little better.” He told himself. It was not until beer number three that the world started to look like a decent place to live again. Roger stood up, yawned, stretched, and looked around the trailer. He knew the place was a fucking dump no matter who lived in it, but he could at least spruce it up a tad. On the off chance he DID come back with a girl, he wanted to show her he took pride in SOMETHING. At this point, he was able to handle a couple toots from his bag. He was one of those rare specimens who genuinely enjoyed cleaning. But, cleaning high and tipsy? He had to offer a chef’s kiss to heaven. There was something in it that felt innocent and pure. Maybe if he cleaned long enough, or hard enough, he could clean his life. He felt born anew after a deep clean. Once satisfied with his work, he took a shower, put on some clean clothes, and sat back down on the couch to enjoy a cigarette. He debated whether to go out. He felt good again. A little better than normal, in fact. He wanted to go out, talk to a few people, have a couple drinks and be in bed at a decent hour. He wasn’t in the mood for anything crazy. A walk seemed in order. That walk, however would end at a dilapidated, smoky dive just outside of the trailer park. It was frequented mostly by residents of the park, but on occasion a couple college kids passing through town would stop in. Roger always hit on the girls. They were obviously creeped out by his presence and demeanor, but he was never deterred. As he approached the bar, he told himself he would only stick around for a couple drinks before hitting the town in search of The Countess. Another bump before heading out the door put his mood over the top. Interacting with him would not have led anyone to suspect he was on anything. Yet, his thoughts were starting to move through his brain at a faster than normal speed. He was still able to focus on one idea, but he got bored with it quickly. The only consistent thought was The Countess. He had to find her. A part of him wanted to go back to the club searching. But Bluffington is small and not much happens. Despite the fact a fair amount of time had gone by, Roger was still worried they might remember him. An overdose is something pretty memorable. The last thing he wanted was another beating. Or worse. That fear cut through the cocaine and alcohol stabbing his amygdala. “ONE DAY, I’ll get the nerve to go in.” He mumbled to himself as he pulled open the heavy, wooden door to the bar.

The gang’s all here. What was left of it, at least. Boomer Bledsoe had gotten a degree in accounting and was living a normal life somewhere in the Northeast. Ned Cauphee had received a Fulbright Scholarship, earned multiple degrees and was teaching at the prestigious universities all over the world. It was Roger and his remaining crony. Willie White should have left town a LONG time ago. After his father lost his position as mayor to Tippi Dink, he went a bit off the rails and was very nearly convicted of statutory rape, amongst other things. The family left town, but Willie being the dum-dum he was didn’t quite grasp the gravity of the situation and stayed behind. He moved from house to house, sleeping on the couches of those who still secretly supported his father. Most of them understood he would never be a high-flyer, but some held out hope that Willie would grow up to be version 2.0 of his father – protecting the rich, making them richer, but NO philandering. Unfortunately for them, the money they spent on tutors and seminars for Willie would have done them more good if they had wiped their asses with it. It was simple. Willie was an idiot. A moron. Stupid. Shit for brains. Roger, like everyone else, knew this, but kept him around. Despite the obvious handicap, Willie was a good guy. Kind-hearted. And he was always down to party. There wasn’t much of a difference between Willie sober and Willie intoxicated; Roger just didn’t want to party alone. Partying alone is what turned you into Doug “fat fuck” Funnie. Willie is sitting in a booth with a pitcher of beer staring at nothing, despite a TV being in his line of sight. Roger sniggered, got a cold glass from the bar, and took a seat next to Willie. “What’s going on, Willie? Anything new?” Willie shrugs. “Nope.” “How’s work?” He shrugged again and sipped his beer, “Eh. The usual.” He worked at the Four-Leaf Clover Mall as a janitor. He always had. After losing his father’s influence, it was the only job he COULD get. No one wanted anything to do with the White family. Though Roger was craving a bit of conversation, Willie, as usual, was an empty well. He didn’t mind, he was feeling good and excited to be out of the house. The evening was just getting started and the possibilities were endless. Within a couple hours, more pitchers were consumed, and shots were being ordered. Roger was surprisingly controlled with the amount of coke he was putting up his nose. The bartender, of course, knew what he was doing every time he got up to use the restroom, but there wasn’t any concern. This was commonplace in this establishment. Cocaine was tame compared to some things that happened in the bathroom. It was a miracle there had only been two deaths in the bar, one of which Roger had been implicated in. Percy Femur, Roger’s old bully and nephew to his childhood guidance counselor, Lamar Bone, had died behind the building from alcohol poisoning. After an autopsy was performed on Percy’s body, a vodka-soaked tampon was found nestled comfortably in his rectum. Witnesses told investigators Roger was seen running around the bar swinging the tampon around like a yo-yo goading Percy to “try something new.” According to the investigation, the tampon was what pushed Percy’s blood alcohol content over the top. Roger spent a year in jail waiting to go to trial before the case was eventually thrown out due to lack of solid evidence. Roger never spoke about the experience and whether he was bothered by it no one really knew. Jail didn’t seem to have any effect on him. Until recently, crime had never really been in an issue in Bluffington. It only served to house the rare transient or visiting college kid who needed to sober up after a long night. Roger’s year in had been spent in a cell alone, watching bad TV and chatting with the officers who were just as bored as he was. He learned to play Chess and had a natural inclination for it. He considered entering a local tournament upon his release, unfortunately the bar was still there, and Roger jumped right back into his old life.

The local news was on. The local Pride parade was getting ready to march through town and the interviewees were drumming up excitement for it. To no one’s surprise, this was an event Roger was banned from. He, along with several others (Percy Femur included) had crashed the very first one by speeding through on motorcycles hurling pee-filled balloons at the participants. Roger was the furthest thing from homophobic, in fact, he had used his old bullying tactics to stand up for a gay couple who moved into his old neighborhood and were being harassed by the HOA. “Money can’t buy you decency!” became his war cry before punching a few members of the association. The inner bully had protected them, but it was also the reason he crashed the parade. He didn’t do it to harass the LGBTQ+ community. He did it because he knew several of the participants and literally wanted to “piss on their parade.” He turned to Willie. “Hey, White, what do you wanna do tonight?” Willie looked for a moment like he was thinking. This shocked and excited Roger. However stupid Willie’s plan was, Roger would be willing to go along with it. He was in the mood for something new and exciting. Willie, however, was not thinking. In fact, he was delicately relaxing his sphincter, blasting a hot, beer and junk food fart into the leather. They sat in silence for a moment, as Willie hadn’t the ability to think and speak simultaneously. It wasn’t until Roger’s olfactory bulbs were assaulted that he realized he had been duped. “God damn, White! What the fuck!?” Willie chuckled before asking, “What do you wanna do tonight?” “I just asked you that!” Roger was annoyed, but still in the mood for some sort of debauchery. He knew whatever he got into; Willie would just be an unwanted anchor. He stuck around for another hour before bidding Willie farewell and heading back out into the street. His buzz was perfect. He was a little drunk, but full of energy thanks to the coke. He was feeling bold. Tonight. TONIGHT. He would find the Countess.

The residents of Bluffington were getting ready for bed. Roger noticed lights being turned off in several houses as he passed through neighborhood after neighborhood of cute houses filled with idyllic lives. He allowed his mind to wander and pictured himself in one living with the Countess. Their pasts forgotten, their lives on track to something normal, both were happy. However, he didn’t see this happening in Bluffington. No. He wanted to start over somewhere, get away from familiarity. Bluffington wasn’t a bad place to live by any means. But it was boring. He had been rich, and he had been poor. He had experienced more life in his short time on Earth than most people do in a few lifetimes. But it had all happened in BLUFFINGTON. He wanted to get out. He HAD to get out. What had he really seen in life? He felt alone. Leaving town would certainly bring him comfort and release but he didn’t want to do that alone. He wanted to take someone with him. And he had settled on doing so with the Countess. Whoever she was.

He was approaching the rougher part of town. It seemed that this section of the city was a city of its own. The quirky, spacious homes that filled the rest of Bluffington gave way to a track of overgrown lots for sale before opening into a veritable den of iniquity. There were no houses here. Just apartments crammed into old industrial buildings. Grocery stores were replaced by poor excuses for corner stores. Bars and liquor stores were everywhere and down every alley were solid, metal doors lit with one red light. Despite the sinful nature of the area, a self-sustaining economy had been created. Most of the residents worked in the bars, making a little extra selling drugs or sex. Roger loved it. As he crossed the abandoned street, he inhaled deeply. The smell was unforgettable – booze, a variety of smokable drugs and a tinge of latex. Here, someone was being penetrated at any given time. He wandered for some time, taking in the sights and sounds – here a drunken bar fight, there a woman feigning pleasure in a seedy motel room. Normally, the sounds coming from the woman would cause him to reevaluate his quest eventually leading him to the nearest prostitute, but not tonight. He was determined. His memories of his evening with the Countess, however, were spotty and vague. The shady part of Bluffington wasn’t big but searching throughout the neighborhood for ONE back alley would eat up a fair amount of time. He didn’t want his buzz to wear off. He knew the second that happened, he would lose what little nerve he had and would find himself scurrying back to his local watering hole with his tail between his legs. He stopped to do another bump before taking a lap through the neighborhood again. Despite his best efforts to jog his memory, nothing seemed familiar. He wasn’t depressed, but he wasn’t happy either. The reality of his situation was setting in – he knew NOTHING about the Countess. He figured he could ask a few of the locals, but those closest in proximity were preoccupied with a blunt and a crate full of 40s. He skulked off, deciding to drown his sorrows somewhere. He was already here, why not? He walked another block just to put some distance between him and the crew with the crate before ducking into yet another dive. It was a lot cleaner than he expected. The lighting was warm, the bar was made of some expensive wood, and the place didn’t have that stale beer and cigarette smell like he was accustomed to. Something about it told him this was not the place to get rip, roarin’ drunk. He sat down on a leather stool that was obviously new, ordering a shot and a beer. The bartender was a sweet, older woman who called him “hun.” He sat taking stock of the place strangely reminiscent of his time eating in upscale places back in his wealthy days. Someone bumped into him, spilling his shot onto his shirt. “AH, SHIT!” As he turned, he expected an immediate punch to the jaw. Behind him stood a grizzly bear of a man, holding a beer and looking down at Roger. “Umm, it’s ok.” Roger wondered how far the hospital was located and if he would make it there successfully. The bear sighed, “NAH MAN!!! YOU CAN’T WASTE GOOD WHISKEY LIKE THAT!!!” Roger accepted his fate. The bear sat down next to him. Roger became confused. The man put his hand up, grabbing the bartender’s attention, “Doll, could you get this man another shot. And make it a double. On me.” “Um, thanks.” Roger muttered. The man extended a massive paw, “What’s your name, friend?” Roger extended his tiny, green hand, “I’m Roger.” “I’m Bear! Pleasure to meet you, Roger!” Of course his name is Bear.

Roger must be lucky. Of all the people to meet in all the shady places in the shitty part of town, he meets Bear. After a couple drinks and sharing some rails, Roger has found himself in the middle of a party at Bear’s place. The place is massive. He has converted an entire floor of an old building into his bachelor pad. As it turns out, Bear owns most of the neighborhood. He explains to Roger that he grew up in the area and wanted to change it. He saw the rest of Bluffington as delusional yuppies, hell bent on living some fantasy rather than helping their neighbors who lived, literally, across the street. Bear started out as a drug dealer and bouncer before taking his earnings and going legit. “I was a dealer from the age of nine until 26, started bouncing at 16, kept doing that into my late 20s. I was working every night. At 20 I invested in a bar 22 invested in a club and kept going from there. Now, I own maybe 80 percent of the businesses around. I own this building!” Roger was impressed. This was the type of person he could look up to. The type of person he wanted to be around. The type of person he could learn from and left himself from the life he was beginning to see as pathetic. Roger sipped his beer, “What about the trailer park?” Bear nodded and stroked his beard, “Ahh, the trailer park. I’ve had my eye on that for a while. I rarely leave the neighborhood though. Don’t really know anyone there. I need a contact.” “Well, I live there.” Bear’s eyes widened, “Really?! Good. You and I will be good friends. Here’s the deal, Roger. Life has been rough for me. I could very easily be bitter about it and go on living the life the rest of the people around here do. But I don’t. I still care. I want to help people. And I’m in a position to do so now. So, I will. No one around here cares if you pass out drunk in a gutter or OD in an alley. I’m tired of seeing it. There are six police officers in all of Bluffington. SIX. And they DON’T come here. We have our own way of dealing with crime. We’re just getting started too. I’m going to clean this neighborhood up, take out the trash, the trailer park included. The rest of Bluffington can go on living its life. I don’t care about them right now. They have enough money to be fine for decades. The people here and in the trailer park need help NOW.” Roger didn’t realize how much he was nodding. “Bear, everything you’re saying is making sense.” Bear grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured two shots. “Roger, I could put you on my payroll. What would you say to that?” Roger jumped at the opportunity, “Yeah!” The thought of a job, especially one that paid under the table was a godsend. Bear stroked his beard again. “When you get home tomorrow, keep your eyes open. Let me know who’s dealing, let me know who the pimps are, stuff like that. Could you do that?” “Absolutely.” “Good. I’ll give you some cash in the morning to live off of. All you have to do is stay in the park. Eyes and ears open. Go about your regular routine, just keep your head down.” “No problem!” “One more thing. You a church going man?” “Uhhh.” Bear could see Roger wasn’t expecting the question and roared out a laugh. “Come to church with me sometime. It’s good to clean the soul once in a while.” “Yeah…Yeah, sure.” Roger stammered. Bear laughed again, startling Roger, “Great! Now, let’s relax and party a little.”

It had been a crazy evening. Guests came in and out all night, the liquor flowed freely, and the weed and cocaine had been of the finest quality. Though a little hungover, he felt pretty good. He sat up on the couch and rubbed his eyes. A bottle of water and a small manilla envelope had been left on the coffee table in front of him. His name was neatly written on the envelope. After downing the water, he opened it slowly. Cash. $1500 and a note. “Roger, this should cover you for the week. I’ll see you soon. Here’s my cell number and address to the church. Call me Saturday. Bear.” Holy shit. He was in. He was official. On the payroll. He wanted to get home right away, buy an eight ball, and go crazy at the bar. But something was stopping him. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He wouldn’t blow it. It was easy money. A sudden sound in the kitchen broke into his thoughts. A woman was walking towards him, “Roger? Hi! Good! You’re up! Come on, I’ll give you a ride home. You feel ok?” No. It couldn’t be. It was her. The Countess. Roger struggled to find words. “I, uh…Yeah. Yeah.” She smiled at him, “You sure? You look like you’re about to puke.” More like faint. Or shit his pants. Maybe he WOULD throw up. He had no idea; all he knew was he couldn’t stop staring. “My name is Annie by the way.”

During the car ride, Roger found himself too nervous to initiate a conversation with the woman he had been so obsessed and spent hours looking for. As hard as he tried not to, the memory of Annie’s bush pushed its way into his thoughts, forcing him to adjust in his seat to cover an erection. It wasn’t a long car ride. He could not afford to get hard. He wanted to ask her about her life, wanted to know every little detail about her and how he could fit himself into it. “So, how do you know Bear? You guys married?” Jane laughed. “No, no. I work for him. He’s like a dad to me. I used to work in one of the clubs and Bear got me out of there. Now, I manage a couple of the bars and do odd jobs for him. Like taking you home!” Relief was an understatement. He didn’t know what he would do if she were married. “Oh, cool,” Roger squeaked. “What do you do?” “Oh ummm, nothing right now. Well, I guess I work for Bear now.” She smiled again. Roger felt as if we were going to have a heart attack. “That’s true! He’s a big guy, but he’ll take care of you. He WILL change Bluffington one day.” They were turning into the trailer park. Roger didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay with Annie. “Which one’s yours?” She asked in the sweetest voice. He pointed. Still stunned, he nearly left his jacket in her car. “I’ll see you around, ok? Wonderful meeting you, Roger.” He smiled meekly at her before closing the car door. She sped off. Roger hurried into the trailer. He could breathe again. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge, chugged half of it, and sat down to smoke a cigarette. Her name is Annie. Sheer joy replaced panic. He knew what he would do now. All thoughts of blowing the money Bear had just given him vanished. If he stayed close to him, he could stay close to Annie. He would certainly visit the bar but would do what Bear asked. Keep his eyes and ears open. Not just yet though. He had a hangover to contend with. After a couple drinks and some food, Roger would be ready to head into the evening.

He closed the bar that night. He intentionally kept his chemical intake to a minimum, wanting to stay semi-sharp for his first day on the job. He felt like a spy. The thought would not have crossed his mind if Doug Funnie had not walked into the bar. Roger suddenly remembered middle school and some secret agent alter-ego Doug used to babble about. He shook his head and approached Doug. He reeked. It was obvious by his scent and eyes that Doug had been drinking vodka all day. Regardless, Roger put up with him. Doug wasn’t a dealer, but keeping him close would allow Roger to blend in. Roger had decided to abstain from coke for a few days though Doug kept pestering him for some. Eventually, Roger gave in and bought him a gram. Whatever kept him happy. Roger got what he wanted – Doug finally shut the fuck up about Cocaine and Roger had the name and face of a dealer. He had bought from him several times and never cared for the guy. He was just a creep. It would not have surprised anyone if this dealer had molested a child or two. Doug wandered off soon after obtaining his drugs and Roger sat around shooting the shit with the rest of the locals. He took mental note of every deal done in the bar or the bathroom and committed to memory more names and faces. He was home by 2:30, finally took a shower and slept in his bed for the first time in weeks. Something was changing in Roger. He could not put his finger on what exactly it was, but he liked it.

The rest of the week was spent in a similar fashion. Roger got up, had breakfast, puttered around home for a bit or cleaned, watched the neighborhood through his windows and come evening, would make his way into the bar to watch and listen. By the end of the week he had compiled a solid list. The names, physical descriptions, and addresses of every drug dealer and petty criminal were neatly categorized and written down, ready to be served on a silver platter to their new master. He took it easy Friday night, not wanting to be hungover just in case Bear needed him the following day. He was also keenly aware that Fridays and Saturdays were the most crowded days in the bar and every asshole within 10 miles would descend upon the rinky-dink establishment to peddle their wares. Sure enough, Bear wanted to see him Saturday afternoon. “I need to run a couple errands, but afterwards, I’m having some people over. I’ll introduce you to them. Oh, and did you want to check out the church?” “Yeah, sure!” Roger didn’t see the harm in it. “Great. Bring a change of clothes so you can crash here. I got an extra room. Nothing fancy though, it’s the type of church that doesn’t give a fuck what you’re wearing. It’s more important we show up.” Roger was grateful for that. Regardless, he packed a collared shirt, a true departure from his white t-shirt under his ratty leather jacket. He felt confident in the information he was about to hand over to Bear. Even if Bear wasn’t impressed, Roger still had a grand to go on a short bender with.

Impressed did not even to begin to describe what Bear felt upon reading Roger’s notes. Elation was more his speed. They sat in a comfortable, yet imposing office in a back corner of Bear’s home. It didn’t fit Bear’s personality. Bear looked like a maximum-security prison had a baby with an entire biker gang. And that baby was raised by wolves and Sequoias. The office was all hardwood floors, antiques, and books. It was something you would expect from an Ivy-league professor, not this behemoth. The sheer number of books astounded Roger. They filled every wall. “Bear…. Have you read all these books?” Bear looked up from Roger’s note. “Uh, most of them. There are about 50 I haven’t gotten to yet. I try to read before bed, but sometimes I’m just out too late and have to pass out the second I get home. Do you like to read?” Roger shook his head, “I honestly haven’t read anything since high school.” Roger chuckled, “It’s good for you. You can pick one out if you like.” Roger got up to browse. A title stuck out to him. He pulled the hefty book from the shelf and sat down to show Bear. Bear raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Good choice. It IS dense though. You might have that one for a while. That author is tough to get through.” “I’m up for a challenge.” Bear chuckled again, “Good. ‘If he has a conscience he will suffer for his mistake; that will be punishment as well as the prison.’” Roger squinted, “I’m sorry?” Bear laughed. “It’s a quote from the book. Crime and Punishment is one of my favorites. And I think it’s a fitting choice for you.” “What do you mean?” Bear sighed heavily, “Roger, I know your history.” Roger’s stomach tightened. Surely, this was his end. Murdered in a beautiful loft. Beaten to death. A cold sweat started to form all over his body. He recalled his brief moments with Annie. If he was going to die, he wanted to think about something sweet. He couldn’t say anything. Bear let out a laugh, the same laugh from the previous week. “ROGER! Relax! You’re not in any sort of trouble.” Roger exhaled loudly. “Man…” Bear got up, pulled some good whiskey from a bar in the middle of the room along with two glasses. He poured a drink for the both of them. “Look. I know about all your little pranks and scrapes with the law. I don’t care about those. What interests me is Percy Femur. Now, I don’t know how YOU feel about it, but I know I’m thrilled about it.” Roger was confused. “You knew him?” Bear sat back down. “Oh yeah. He worked for me for a few years. Stole 60 large from me.” Roger almost spit his drink out. “Seriously?” Bear nodded, “Oh yeah. He managed one of the nightclubs I own. Took it all out of the safe one night and skipped town. I could NOT find him. He may have been dumber than a potato, but he KNEW how to hide. I feel stupid knowing he was right there in the trailer park and I had no idea.” Roger sat trying to process everything. “I didn’t really like the guy either.” “It’s a shame he’s dead. But to be honest, I’m not sad about it. He did a lot of shitty things around here. I guess he never grew out of his bullying shoes.” Roger could only swish his glass and listen. Bear continued, tapping the unfolded note, “This note you’ve given me is better than gold. Half the guys on here have stolen from me, have made what I want to do in this town even more difficult than it has to be. They’ve either stolen from me or been responsible for the stepped-on shit that’s causing a lot of the ODs around here. And you know Willie White?!” Roger nodded, “He’s even dumber than Percy.” Bear laughed, “His father is responsible for this side of Bluffington being the way it is. He stole MILLIONS from the city and screwed every single resident this side of town over. He dismantled the factories that employed people, sold them off and pocketed the cash. When we started to struggle, he cut social services to the city. What else were we supposed to do? We were all on the verge of homelessness. He invested the money he made screwing us over into his wealthy friend’s businesses and made even more. The mall, the Honker Burger! All of it. When the crime rate here went up, he cut the number of police and relocated their headquarters to the middle of town. This is still Bluffington, but we’re technically not in any police jurisdiction. He fucked us, man. Now that I know where Willie is, I can get back at him. I won’t hurt Willie, but I do have something special planned for him. Had Mayor White not been chased out by that sex scandal, your trailer park was next. He had plans for you guys. You, Roger, are a godsend.” Only then did Roger realize he was important. Whether it was a permanent position or not, for this moment, he was important. He could feel himself being pulled from the gutter and he liked it. He could see his future laid out before him. The path before him was shining and every step would make him want more. There was one question that remained, “Bear, the whole thing with Percy, I get how you know that. I think everyone does, but the petty stuff? What do you know?” Bear sipped his drink trying to suppress a laugh, “The parade, all the shit you’ve done around town, THE COUNTESS.” Roger’s eyes widened, “Hoowwww?” Bear put the note into his desk, stood up and motioned for Roger to follow him. “Let’s go. We have some stuff to pick up for the party. You really should talk to Annie. You guys have more of a history than you realize. She likes you too. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to ask her out. She’ll be here tonight.” Roger downed his drink.

The party was going well. Roger had been introduced to everyone as “the new guy.” He still wasn’t sure what exactly that meant, but he felt safe knowing he was part of a new group who had his back. Normally, he would mingle at a party, but tonight was different. He nursed his drinks, his stomach in knots. Annie was coming. He had to know what their history was. How did he know her? He had had plenty of black out nights, but not one of them ever included a gorgeous redhead like her. He couldn’t take much more of the anxiety. Finally, she arrived. Roger was too wrapped up in his nerves to notice. Had he noticed; he would have seen her asking Bear where he was. It wasn’t until she tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around, the knots in his stomach giving way to a flood of endorphins. “Hi Roger.” “Hi Annie. Want a drink?” “I would LOVE one. It’s been a long day.” “Really? What happened?” Bear patted him on the back shooting him a thumbs up as they passed. Their chatting felt natural. He felt as if he had known her for years. Time passed quickly. They were creating a universe no one else had access to. They ended up in a side room trading stories, learning more about each other. They even talked about Annie’s time as The Countess and Roger’s escapades the night he wandered into the club. “I hated it there.” Annie confessed. “But I couldn’t beat the money. I needed it. Luckily, I never had to sleep with any of the guys. I just tied them up and beat the shit out of them.” “Well, I’m happy you’re out of there.” Roger said dreamily. “You know, I was going to fuck you that night. But the second my panties came off you had a seizure. Didn’t realize my pussy was that powerful. Thanks for that.” Roger laughed at the comment but couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed. He apologized. “It’s ok. I’m glad you’re alright.”

As the night moved on and the party started to slow, Roger was finally comfortable enough to ask, “So, Bear said we had more of a history than I realize. What does that mean?” She gave Roger a big smile, “You don’t recognize me, do you?” He shook his head. She reached across the table and kissed him. Roger felt like he had bubbles in his brain. She sat back, took a pair of sunglasses out of her purse, put them on and pulled her hair back to make it look shoulder-length. “All I’m missing is the purple beret.” It all made sense now. “J-J-J-udy?!?!” He stammered. His old crush. Judy Anastasia Funnie. He couldn’t believe it. No one knew where she was. If anything, he had more questions for her now. “I thought you were somewhere acting!” “I was! It just didn’t work out though. I was a cliché. I was waiting tables, going to casting calls, living with a bunch of roommates who were also actors. Everyone and everything was fake. Eventually, the money ran out and I got burned out. So, I came home. No one knows I’m here though. I mean, I changed my name. I go by Annie Ferguson now.” “Should I call you Annie from now on?” “Yes. Please.” “Ok. Wait. Your brother. He’s-” She interrupted him. “I know. He’s not doing well. I call the house often just to make sure he’s still breathing. I always hang up after I hear his voice. He doesn’t even sound like himself anymore. I want to get him help, it’s just really expensive. Bear has offered to help, which I’m SO thankful for. He’ll get help soon.” It was Roger’s turn to confess, “I don’t want to hide anything from you. You know I’ve partied with him, bought shit for him…” She nodded, “Roger, I know. It’s no big deal. Like I said, he’s going to get help.” He sighed. She scratched her head, “So, changing subjects. We’re dating now, right?” This time, Roger DID choke on his drink, to Annie’s delight. “WHAT?! Are we?!” He sputtered. She nodded, “I hope so! I’ve been obsessed with you since high school. I was just so wrapped up in becoming an actress I never gave you the time of day. And you were pretty mean to my brother.” “And I was still in middle school,” He added. She laughed heartily. “THAT TOO!” He rubbed his neck, “Yeah. Yeah! We’re dating now!” She put down her drink, grabbed his hand and pulled him out of his seat, “Good. Because right now I want to take you home and do something else I’ve thought about since high school.” Bear handed Roger his overnight bag as he was walking out the door. Annie lived within walking distance. He took these moments to enjoy and say goodbye to the one memory he had of Annie’s crotch. That night, he made plenty of new ones.

Roger couldn’t remember the last time he felt as good as he did. He felt like part of a family. A real family. Bear sat next on one side of him, Annie on the other, holding his hand throughout the sermon. Bear wasn’t kidding when he said the church was casual. Jeans, shorts, cut-off t-shirts, it was all there. And everyone sang praises loudly. The pastor was a grizzled old man who looked as if he had been through a few wars. The passion with which he preached would give the casual onlooker that he was just another hell-fire preacher. However, a quick listen would prove the opposite to be true. His sermon was full of verses that encouraged hope and promised redemption. Roger found himself entranced, hanging on to every single word. This felt right. Everything felt right. Roger felt as if he was going to burst. The preacher stopped for a moment. He looked out at the congregation before continuing. “My brothers and sisters. Salvation is free. Salvation is not just for those who have everything. Salvation is for all of us. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US. All we are asked to do is open our hearts. We are not forced to do ANYTHING. We are asked. And I ask today as I do every Sunday – who wants that salvation? Who wants to wipe the slate clean?! Who wants to come into the fold and be filled with the spirit?!” “Yes,” Roger thought. This was it. His path was clear. He saw what was necessary for him to move forward with his life. He saw what he had to do to take that next step on his journey. “YES!” He yelled, jumping up from his pew. The pastor’s eyes narrowed on him as he raised a crooked, pointy finger at him, “YOU! Will you accept SALVATION?! Come up here!” Roger hurried to the front of the church. The pastor asked Roger to kneel before dipping his hands in a bowl filled with water. Roger didn’t even notice the overwhelming silence in the building. Cold water washed over his face and shoulders before he was pulled upwards and embraced by the pastor. “What is your name, brother?” The pastor asked. “Roger,” he responded with newfound confidence. The pastor raised both his hands towards the heavens as the congregation began to clap and cheer, “BROTHER ROGER! YOU HAVE ACCEPTED SALVATION AND BEEN BORN ANEW! NOW GO FORTH AND SPREAD THE GOOD NEWS!” Roger was a new man.


End file.
